


The Bonding Series

by GintokisGirl95



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Fem!Jon, Female Jon Snow, Gen, Sansa and Cat are Not Assholes, Tags Are Hard, Tags Are the Work of the Devil
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 17:44:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7854847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GintokisGirl95/pseuds/GintokisGirl95
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of fics built around the Stark family and their thoughts and interactions with Lynara Snow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ned: Direwolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Robb and Lynara called everyone over to inspect their findings, this is not what Ned Stark had in mind.

After Robb and Lynara called them all over to inspect their findings, this was not what he had in mind. 

There was a large direwolf before them with maggots all over its body, and with this massive creature was five of its offspring, wriggling about and whimpering for its mother. 

"What is it?" Theon asked. "A mountain lion?"

"There are no mountain lions in these lands, not this far north," Hullen replied for him. "It's a direwolf."

"A bitch, at that," Ned said to no one in particular. He pointed at the pups around the corpse. "They feed on her. She must have perished recently."

"We could keep them," Robb suggested. "And raise them. They could prove to be important for us later on."

"No one should have a direwolf as a pet. One can easily rip a man's arm off his shoulder as easily as a mere dog will kill a rat; they are not meant to be raised as pets."

He grasped the stag's antler and wrenched it free from the bitch's throat. This, _this_ was a sign. It was not in the natural order of things for a stag to kill something as massive as a direwolf. It was complete disorder for prey to kill a predator.

This was an omen, and a bad one. 

"They must die, Lord Stark," Hullen finally muttered. "These are monsters."

"A quick death is just for these creatures," Ned said, watching Theon yank the wretched monster from Bran's hands, releasing his blade from its confinements and pointing its tip at the pup's neck. "They do not belong at Winterfell, and they shan't run wild here."

"No, please, Father!" Bran cried. "I will soak a towel with warm milk and let them suck from that!"

Ned turned to his son, disdain written on his face. "I'm sorry, Bran. They have no place here, you know this."

"Put away your blade, Greyjoy," Robb said, face twisted in disgust at the ward's actions.

"I take orders from your father. I needn't listen to you," Theon spat back. 

"Lord Stark," Lynara suddenly said, motioning to the little animals. "There are five pups, three male, two female. There is one for each of the Stark children, my Lord, and it is fitting that you have three sons and two daughters." She paused, monitoring her father's behaviour. "The direwolf is the sigil of your House; they're meant to have them."

They all turned to Ned, waiting for his final word expectantly. He felt it, but his gaze switched from the dead mother direwolf to the beige and cream coloured animal wriggling in Lynara's arms, and then to his bastard daughter. He couldn't refuse her -- how many times had he done so in her life? 

He wondered if the distance between them was as detrimental to her as it was to him.

"You don't want one of your own, Lyn?"

He saw a flash of sadness in her eyes. "The direwolf sigil graces the banners of House Stark. I am no Stark…they belong to the trueborn children."

He couldn't stop the feeling of hurt that coursed through him. _Promise me, Ned,_ echoed in his mind repeatedly, reminding him of his vow. As much as he wanted to confront Lynara and tell her the truth in private, he couldn't. It was a promise. He is not one to break oaths, especially if it was made with his beloved sister. 

It was evident to him that the children wanted them, and he could only imagine Arya and Sansa's expressions upon seeing the pups. He knew that Lynara only suggested saving the monstrosities because he denied Bran and Robb's pleas. It was a last resort, he thought. But...they could serve to be important for the children, like powerful protectors. 

It was a sound thought. So, just this once...

"You will train them yourselves, you will feed them yourselves, and if they die...you'll bury them yourselves," he said sternly, wondering if he made the right decision. 

Dissatisfied, Theon placed his small blade back into his sheath, passing the direwolf clutched in his hand to Robb, who happily took it off his hands. 

As he looked back, he saw Bran's large smile and mouthed his thanks to his sister, who returned his gesture and handed him two of the animals each, who in turn passed another to Robb. Hullen held two, as well. Only one remained, and Bran took the last, lightest one in his arms. 

As they trotted away on their horses, Ned turned to Lynara again. Something caught her attention - perhaps it was in her head, or maybe it was a sound that only she could have heard because he did not see anything. Lynara swung around and headed in the direction of a broken tree.

"What is it, Lyn?" Ned asked. 

"You don't hear it, Lord Stark?" She called.

"No, lass. What is it?"

"Losing your mind, eh, Snow? It only makes sense for a bastard to go mad." Theon said with wry amusement. He was silenced when she pulled out a small pup writhing in her arms, handling it with such care and hiding it in her leathers to shield it from the harsh weather. As it poked out, Ned noticed that it was the colour of the snow all around them, yet his eyes were the colour of fresh blood. _Striking,_ he thought. If it weren't for his eyes, he would have wondered how she even _saw_ the creature.

"He must have crawled away from the others," she said finally. 

"Or he had been driven away," Ned replied, eyeing the small animal, which huddled closer to Lynara for warmth. 

"Oh, look at what Snow found, an albino _and_ it's the runt of the litter!" Theon taunted, laughing mockingly. "It'll die quicker than the rest."

She rose her head from the direwolf, slowly shooting him a chilling but empty look. Ned saw Theon's immediate change, appearing as if he saw a ghost. "I think not, Greyjoy," she said vacantly. "This one belongs to me."

He found it curious that she alone heard his whimpers, or how she found the creature underneath. But the Gods found funny ways of showing symbolism; the direwolf was the only one, from what he had seen, with its eyes open, and it reminded him of the heart tree he prayed before thousands of times. 

_Different, but the same._

_Befitting of the person that found him._


	2. Sansa: Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa seeks out an unlikely person to discuss her nightmare.

The knock on her door was… _lady-like_. Uniform, yet so frantic.

As she slowly opened the door she was surprised to see her younger sister standing before her with a candle in her hand and an uncharacteristically despondent look on her face. Her eyelids were puffy and an angry red and her cheeks were tear-stained. Lynara reached out, lightly running her hand over Sansa's cheek. 

"Sansa? What happened to you? Are you hurt? Are you--"

"Please," she says, her voice unusually hoarse, "may I come in?"

Lynara noticed that there was a cold draft coming from the halls and Sansa was wearing a thin nightgown…and no cloth to cover her feet; she was shaking a little bit, too. "Of course, my lady," she says gently, stepping aside to allow her younger sister's entrance. "Who did this to you?"

"No one…I just had a nightmare," Sansa replies, plopping down on Lynara's fur-covered mattress. She shifted to tug Lynara's cover from under her, pulling it over her body, undoubtedly to warm her chilled feet. She laid in a supine position, her head turned in her sister's direction. "Everyone died - you and Bran and Robb and Rickon and Arya, Father and Mother…all because of my husband. He killed all of you, he--" she stopped herself, staring forlornly as she covered her mouth, struggling to breathe properly. "Blood was everywhere, Lyn. It was _everywhere!_ All over the walls, around my feet, just pouring from everyone and for a while, all I could see was crimson…I just…I…"

"Shh, shh," Lynara whispered, embracing her and stroking her hair. _She's hysterical again - it must have been a very realistic dream,_ Lynara thought wistfully. "I understand it was traumatising, but have no fear, love. You'll be wed to the man of your dreams -- a nice Southron like you've always wanted -- and you'll raise little knights, septons and septas…and your love will stay by your side to make sure you never have such terrible thoughts again."

"But everything felt so real…I felt so hopeless…"

"We are here to protect you. And when you marry, it'll be your husband's duty to do so, too. Only a terrible man would harm someone as lovely as you," Lynara said, prompting a small smile from her sister. "I am not a Stark, but always remember that Starks are hard to kill, and Father will make sure nothing harmful happens to you. I promise, as well, San."

"I'm sorry," she said. "I know it is shameful for someone my age to still have nightmares."

"It's not shameful. Father still has them…he told me once. I do too, and I wouldn't be surprised if your lady mother does as well. No one is ever too old or too young for such horrors."

"Thank you…" Tears still ran down her cheeks. Sansa wiped them away with her thinned sleeve before Lynara could. "Did I…wake you?"

Lynara shook her head, shooting her a kindly smile. "Not at all. I was practising my High Valyrian." She waved her hand in the direction of the melting candle, the opened thick book, and the small stack of papers on her table. "I sleep late, anyway."

"Oh," she replied. "Do you always stay up late?"

Lynara was surprised that Sansa seemed genuinely curious. "Usually, yes. I don't require a lot of rest, but…you do. It is terribly late. Would you like to rest here tonight? You can if you'd like. I'll stay up and watch over you."

"You'd stay up all night...for me?" 

"Yes."

"Promise?" 

Lynara smiled again. "I promise, little sister." She watched Sansa sit up and release her hair from the tight braids that she forgot to take out hours ago.

"Lyn?"

She turned her head to glance at her sister and her fire-kissed hair splayed about on her pillows. 

"You are a Stark…to me..."

Lynara smiled fondly at Sansa. "Thank you for that." She saw the twinkle in her eyes before she finally fell asleep. 

Going back to her studies, she thought of it: Sansa never sought her out since they both found out what it meant to be a "bastard," which made her admission of considering Lynara a Stark especially meaningful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to post this a few days from now, but I have like five chapters already written for this series, so why not? On a side note, I think the next chapter will be Catelyn's. 
> 
> Thank you for reading. :)


	3. Catelyn: Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catelyn tries to find reasons to hate Lynara, but she just couldn't.

She tried to find as many reasons as she could to hate her, but she just couldn't. 

Yes, Lynara _Snow_ is a bastard, and when Ned brought her here, he forever tarnished the idea of family and honour, but it wasn't Lynara's fault that she was born -- it's not like she asked the Seven or the Old Gods for this life. Ned was the one that laid down with that woman, whoever she was - _that woman_ whom he fiercely protects and refuses to reveal the identity of, much to her chagrin. It wasn't her fault that she was brought into this world; she didn't ask the Gods to bring her here and torment Catelyn. 

Lynara Snow is much like her husband: Loyal, dedicated, honest, and trustworthy. She was much like a true Stark without having the all-important name. Catelyn noted that they had the same long Stark face and the same hair, same sylphlike body. The bastard looked so much like Ned the more she got older, and it triggered an even stronger of resentment towards the young girl. She knew it wasn't fair, but she couldn't feel scorn for her husband, the love of her life. 

Catelyn stood behind the cracked door, eyeing the encounter between Ned, Arya, and the girl, the three people that looked like only they belonged at Winterfell. Arya was climbing into her bed and ready for sleep, yawning excessively. Ned threw the furs over her and kissed her cheek, but she turned to Lynara with half-open eyes. 

"Tell me a bedtime story, oh please, Lyn?" Arya requested innocently, pulling her furs up her face until only dark grey eyes showed. Catelyn smiled at her cute behaviour.

Lynara gave a gentle nod. "Of course, love. What would you like to hear?"

"Anything," Arya replied simply. 

She eventually told her a captivating story of a princess who is locked in a tower guarded by a massive, evil dragon, and a single knight that battles and slays him to free the princess from her confinement. For a moment, the lady Stark observed a tinge of sadness in Ned's eyes, but that quickly vanished, replaced by his usual, solemn expression.

"Will you be my knight one day, Lyn?" She heard her youngest daughter ask the bastard sleepily. "Will you slay the evil dragon for me?"

"Yes," Lynara replied, slowly tucking her in. "I will fight for you, and I will protect you from the evil dragon, I swear it, for you are the beautiful princess."

Such words were not used to describe Arya Stark. She was headstrong and stubborn even for someone so young, wouldn't listen to authority even if her life depended on it, and she had little beauty, even if Ned said she looked much like Lyanna when she was her age; the beautiful one was Sansa…yet there she was, smiling, accepting Lynara's stroke of her cheek and even… _leaning_ into it. It was a shock to Catelyn because Arya had seldom sought her attention, only Ned's...and Lynara's. It made her wonder why she and her daughter didn't have such a strong bond as Arya had with the two of them. 

Catelyn never liked how close they were, yet her husband encouraged it. In her mind, it only made sense that the ones who looked so alike would be so close, but that didn't make it any less insulting or painful for her.

"You'll protect me?" 

"I will always protect you, I promise, love," Lynara said so fiercely it shone in her eyes. "Always."

"Good," Arya murmurs stubbornly as she begins to lull to sleep. "Because if you don't I'll…punch…"

The pure, robustness of her laughter was so rare and though she tried to deny it, was very appealing and welcoming. Catelyn watched as she planted a kiss on Arya's forehead and told her how much she loved her after she tucked the young girl in. She saw the way Arya reacted to such affection, and that was what changed her stance on her presence significantly. 

She could not hate her. It's rather hard to be irate to someone who possessed such an amiable, benevolent personality. 

"Sweet dreams, princess," the girl whispered so quietly. Ned watched on and only when Lynara pulled away did Ned say anything. 

"Why do you call her that, Lyn?" Ned asks, and Lynara shot her father a small smile. "Why do you call her princess?"

"Well, there are two reasons," she spoke in her normal soft-spoken tone. "The first is that it is a habit of mine, and the second…"

"...and the second?" Ned urged.

Lynara closed her ethereal eyes as she smiled, looking down at her booted feet. "The second...is that even if she is the daughter of a lord, she should still be loved and treated as if she is one."

Ned rustled her hair and kissed her forehead, much like she had done to Arya just moments ago. It wasn't resentment that caught in Catelyn's throat, but sadness and pity, and she slowly backed away from the room, grabbing the nearby candle that she set down. 

"Don't you think you should, too?" She heard her husband ask. "Be treated like a princess?"

"No, my Lord," she replied forlornly, "for I am not a Stark. Such luxuries do not belong to me."

Catelyn turned from the door and walked briskly down the hall, trying to be as silent as she possibly could so they wouldn't sense her. She decided to simply keep herself at a distance rather than belittle Lynara at every turn...because someone who was always so gentle with her children did not deserve such treatment.


	4. Ned: Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lynara asks a question about a sensitive topic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a feeling that this may offend someone. If it does, I must say that I apologise. However, this was my favourite story to write out of this whole series...so far.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading!

"Father…" the sound was quiet, gentle…and nervous. Ned turned around and saw his young daughter standing next to him, pushing the loose raven-coloured strands of her wavy hair away from her face, exposing amethyst eyes brimming with tears and so full of…shame? 

"Yes, Lynara? What is it? Is Theon picking on you again?" He visibly relaxed when she shook her head. 

"May I…may I speak to you alone? It's-it's important." 

"Of course. Cat, will you excuse me?" She nodded. He ignored the glare that she was sending the young one, but he was cross that she loathed such a blameless, innocent girl. 

_None of this is her fault. She did not ask for this life._

"Can we go outside? I don't want anyone to hear." She asked softly, and he felt compelled to nod. 

"Yes. Let us go to the godswood." He ushered her out of the castle and into the dense forest. He knew that Cat wouldn't follow suit because she perceived herself an outsider; she was a follower of the Seven, which he was somewhat grateful for. This was one of the very few places in the castle that he had where he could have peace and quiet to himself, and he understood that it was the same for Lynara. He knelt to see her eye to eye so she wouldn't feel so overwhelmed, but her lips still quivered. "What is on your mind?" 

"What are the Old Gods' views on girls liking other girls?" She inquired hesitantly, her cheeks flushed in slight embarrassment. 

It was a question that took him aback. In his mind, a girl of four-and-ten was much too young to ask such questions, but he remembers that Lyanna was at that age when Rhaegar whisked her away… _but,_ he thought remorsefully, _that made for another story._

Ned sat down on a chopped log and motioned for her to accompany him. He draped an arm over her, allowing her to rest her head on his shoulder. 

"Well…some women enjoy the company of men and some like other women…some men like women and some like other men…others can and do love both, too. The heart does not discriminate with such matters and neither do the Old Gods. They give their blessings to all." He paused, eyeing her closely. "What is the matter, sweetling? Is there someone you love?"

Lynara slowly nodded. "I think so…her name is Sara, and…"

"She is the young girl that works in the kitchens, am I right?" She nodded solemnly. His heart broke when he saw the tears sting her eyes and flow effortlessly off her cheeks; without another word, he whisked them away with a curled finger. "Hey, hey, don't cry. I don't like it when you cry."

"She is the only one aside from Robb and Arya to notice me. She even defended me from a people that talked about me…she makes me so happy, Father." She pulled away from his embrace to sadly flick her gaze from his eyes to the pool and then to the nearby trees; her hands were shaking, as well. _She is so nervous. Afraid of repercussions, maybe?_ "Are...are these feelings wrong?"

"Are they wrong? No…not at all." He gave her a smile even though he saw how bleary and red her eyes were, accentuating the deep purple of her eyes. Yet even still, he saw the hopeful look, and that made him feel like what he was saying was enough. "Not everyone knows that they're in love. How did you know you felt that way?"

"My lord…she…she kissed me about a fortnight ago." She stammered. "After-after that I just kept thinking that she was the person I wanted to spend my life with…everything felt so new, Father, everything felt right. But I don't want to shame the family…"

"Nonsense. You will not shame the family; that I know for sure. You will never shame the family, Lya..." She looked at him questioningly, then he corrected her nickname when he realised the error of his ways. _She looks so much like Lyanna that it's hard to call her anything else…_ "…Lyn. You may be young, but you are no fool. I give you my support."

"Thank you, Lord Stark," she beamed, but then sobered up quickly. "Will the Lady be upset?"

"Not if you don't tell her, love," he said, and she smiled. He knows she would never willingly talk to her; if Cat ever found out, it would be because she stumbled upon them, and that was highly unlikely. 

"Will _you_ tell her?"

"No. I promise I will not tell her." He rubbed his nose against hers. How long has it been since they've had such contact? It hurts him to know that it's been so long that he doesn't remember. "This conversation is just between you and me."

\----------

"So, what was it the girl wanted?" Catelyn asked when she laid next to him in bed. She didn't want to talk about her, he knew, but for some reason she brought her up. He knew what she was asking, and he knew that she wanted to get rid of Lynara as quickly as possible. But, of course, he will not allow her to be sent off to some lord leagues away, whether she had received her moon blood or not. 

_I promise I will not tell her_ were the only words ringing in his head before he could respond. _One thing I am not is an oathbreaker and I don't intend to be such now._

"She wanted to learn how to properly balance a sword," he said simply, staying true to his promise.


	5. Arya: Beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lynara reassures Arya after people make fun of her appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this fic, Arya is six and Lynara is eleven.

"Hey, why are you crying?" Lynara asked, taking hold of her arm before she hurried past her. "Stop...hey! _Stop_ , Arry. What's the matter?"

Her eyes shifted from Lynara to the ground and back again, running her hands over her braided hair aggressively. "Why did the Gods make me so ugly?" 

"Why did the Gods _what_?" Lynara questioned, dumbfounded at such a question. "Arya Stark, you are most certainly not ugly. Where did this nonsense come from?" 

"Everyone thinks I am, Lyn! Sansa and Jeyne and Theon...they call me ugly and Little Boy and Arya Horseface and Arya Underfoot..." Arya fiercely wiped away tears with the back of her hand. "They whinny and neigh so loudly every time I walk by…especially _Theon_."

"Don’t listen to them; they don’t know what they're talking about. Three people are not everyone, either." Lynara bent to stare straight on at her red-eyed sister, shaking her head disappointingly. "I am upset that they would tell you such things. Would you like me to prove to you that you are not ugly, princess?" 

Arya didn't respond, just stared at her with her bottom lip adorably jutting out, and Lynara took that as a 'yes.' Smiling gently, she took Arya's hand and led her to a large mirror in the Great Hall. She stood behind her little sister, undoing the messy braid that started to tangle on Arya's head, letting her wavy hair fall about her shoulders. Lynara did the same to her own hair, bending down so their faces are nearly side-by-side. 

"What do you see?" 

"An ugly little girl." Arya groaned, on the verge of tears again. Her lip began to quiver as she continued to stare at herself. 

"I do not see that," Lynara murmured. "I see a beautiful girl who is upset because three people don't know what they're talking about." 

_I see someone who looks like me._

"But I'm not beautiful. You are. Beautiful is meant for you and Sansa...I'm just the ugly little girl." Arya started. "Everyone talks about how you're the Beauty of Winterfell and how pretty Sansa is, and they make fun of me and tell me girls shouldn't wear breeches or get dirty."

"People are not meant to look the same. The word 'beautiful' can apply to anyone and everyone, and it's not designated to only a few individuals. I personally think you are beautiful, too." Lynara still stared at the mirror, kissing Arya's cheek. "I like getting dirty. I like playing the knight in shining armour for you and I love wearing men's clothes. We hate dresses and that's alright…it doesn't make us any less girly! Just a little improper." 

Arya's lips twitched, and Lynara could tell that her mood was improving. "Did you know that Father told me I looked just like you when I was your age?"

"Really?" She asked in disbelief.

"Yes! You can ask him if you'd like -- he said we looked almost identical…but my eyes are purple, that's all. He told me that we both look like our Aunt Lyanna -- and many say she was a very beautiful woman herself...who didn't take to dresses either!" In the reflection, Arya saw Lynara's kindly smile; she turned around and faced her. "Believe me when I say you're beautiful, love. You know I'd never lie to you."

"Thank you, Lyn…" Arya sniffled. Lynara rubbed her shoulders in response, then hugged her tightly. 

"Would you like me to talk to them for you? I will if you want me to, you know that."

"No…they won't bother me anymore."

Lynara never felt more proud of her little sister. She planted a gentle kiss on Arya's forehead as she grinned, whispering, "stay strong, little one."


	6. Catelyn: Blueberries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moment of sympathy leads Catelyn to a decision.

A loud crash was enough to catch their attention. 

As Ned rose from the table to inspect the damage, she followed behind him, watching Robb and Lynara as they stood, looking very guilty. 

"What happened here?" Ned asked, pointing at the shattered vase on the floor. "Who caused this mess?"

"I-I'm sorry, my Lord," Lynara spoke, pushing past Robb. Catelyn wondered if she only said 'my Lord' to him when she was around, but stopped when Lyn met her gaze for a brief second. Her head dropped, her sloe-coloured hair covering her haunting purple eyes. "I was horseplaying with Robb and bumped into the table. I am terribly sorry; I didn't know my actions would cause the vase to fall." 

"Lyn…" Ned breathed, his gaze softened. "I expect this to be cleaned. After you're done, Lyn, go to your room; I'll have a maid send you your sup. You two know not to play in the house."

"Wait, she--" Robb immediately stopped when Lynara turned to him, and Catelyn could faintly hear 'it's alright.'

"Thank you, my Lord," she said, bowing and heading to fetch a small broom.

Lynara didn't do it. It wasn't her fault, Catelyn knew; she was always cautious of her surroundings and was too far from the. However, it did make her curious…why did she do that? Did she always take the blame for things he had done? 

Knowing it made Catelyn feel…wistful. 

\----------

"Yes?" Catelyn heard the girl's innocent voice calling from the other side of the door. "Who is it?"

"Lynara, it's me," Catelyn replied. "May I come in?"

After a beat of the heart, Lynara opened the door, stepping aside so Catelyn could enter. As her back was turned, she sat on a chair, the blueberries in her hand. As she looked around, she saw a massive book that the basket can be placed behind and rested them there. As Lynara turned around, Catelyn eyed the dried crimson all over the palm of her hand. 

"What happened to you?" She asked in slight alarm.

"Oh…this?" She motioned to her right hand, pulling it up so Catelyn could see closer. "I accidentally…cut it whilst sweeping the glass."

"Why did you not go to Maester Luwin?"

"I didn't want to burden him. I know he has many things to do today and should not be burdened with a simple cut of the hand." She explained. "Also, Maester Luwin left a roll of wrap and a small pail and a dry rag in case I get hurt again. I know how to clean my wound, my Lady; I was going to clean it until I heard your knock..."

"Give me your hand," Catelyn commanded. She eyed the cut, looking back up at Lynara when she sharply inhaled air as she touched her. "Does it hurt terribly, Lyn?"

"N-no, my Lady…it…it is a shock to see you doing something like this for me. Making sure I'm okay…I am just surprised, that's all." Lynara gave a smile to ensure Catelyn that she meant no ill will. 

She couldn't say that the confession didn't make her feel upset, though. She was a bastard, yes, her husband's bastard, but she does not deserve scorn. She loves her siblings dearly and would do anything for them. She'd do anything for Ned and, most likely, she would do anything for the person who disliked her for the entirety of her life so far, too. 

But Catelyn prayed to the Gods to keep her alive and safe after she caught the pox. She promised to treat her like she would the others, even if she was from someone else. _Treat the motherless bastard like a person and not a curse._

After she cleaned and dressed her wound, she thought of the blueberries that rested behind the book of the stars next to her and came to a proper conclusion. 

"You have to promise me that you will not cover for him anymore," Catelyn said in her motherly voice. She could sense fear in Lynara's eyes but the emotion disappeared quickly. 

"I don't know if I can promise that, my Lady," she sighed. "He is my brother. It is my duty to be by his side, to protect him, always."

"He is your brother, yes, but he needs to learn that you will not take the blame for him every time he does something wrong."

Staring into Catelyn's eyes, she hesitantly nodded. "Yes, my Lady, I promise I will not do that for him anymore."

"Thank you," Catelyn leant back in satisfaction. She reached for the fruit, her hand gripping the handle of the basket. "I brought something for you."

Lynara's amethyst eyes brightened. "A present, my Lady?" 

"I suppose," she murmured, watching the girl dip her head as she smiled. With her head raised, she beamed as she locked her eyes on the blueberries. "Will you promise to eat them all?" 

"Yes, my Lady, these are my favourite!" She exclaimed. Lynara rose to give her an unexpected embrace. "Thank you, thank you!"

Instinctively, her hands wrapped around Lynara's body, pulling her closer. Catelyn kissed the top of her head and then her cheek. The feeling that coiled in the pit of her stomach was similar to that of what she feels when she does such a thing to her children; she started to feel pure love for the girl. 

"Enjoy the berries, Lynara," she smiled before leaving, slowly pushing the heavy brown door closed behind her. 

She still couldn't find it in herself to do such a thing openly, but this was most certainly a start.


	7. Robb & Arya: Cramped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're all cramped, but Lynara doesn't mind.

"There is no way. There is absolutely _no way_ we're all going to fit on my bed." 

They all stared at her bed, studying the size and comparing it with their bodies. It wasn't very large, not at all, but it could possibly hold all of them. They eyed it in consideration, Arya's hands on her hips, Robb's fingers on his chin and Lynara's fingers massaging her temple. 

"Of course there is! We're _cold,_ Lyn. We need somewhere to sleep," Arya whined. "Your room is the warmest during this time of year. My feet are frozen right now!"

"Okay… _us,_ maybe, but the direwolves? How are we going to be able to move at all?" Lynara asked, groaning. She motions her hand in Robb's direction as she speaks. "Robb tosses and turns in his sleep, and _so do you,_ Arry. I refuse to forget the last time I let you rest here and I woke up to your arms and legs all over me."

_I sleep like a stone and you both rest as if you're being chased by a pack of wild dogs,_ Lynara laughed to herself. Robb cocked an auburn eyebrow and Arya stared at her blankly, no doubt believing she lost her mind. 

"Grey Wind loves to sleep on the bed with me," Robb said, scratching his direwolf's ear. "The direwolves can always sleep at the foot of the bed."

"Robb, we need space to move around. Ghost rests with me too, and I don't want to kick Ghost while I'm sleeping and I don't want you two to, either." Lynara added, folding her arms after she ran her fingers through Ghost's fur. "Why can't we just start a fire in your room? Your bed is much larger than mine. We could easily fit on yours, we'd have room to move, and the direwolves won't be potentially kicked by us."

Her eyes shift from Ghost back to Robb and then to Arya. 

"They won't stay there forever. They know how to lay on the floor." Robb pointed to the large rug placed near her closed window. "If, in the event that they are kicked, they will lay there and keep each other warm with their body heat."

"Gods, your room is cosy, Lyn!" Arya exclaimed, plopping herself on her sister's bed then proceeding to throw the blanket over her body. Her feet poked out, and quickly she curled her body to warm her toes. "I am _not_ walking back out there," she asserted from underneath the furs. "The draft in the halls are terrible."

"I can add more wood to the fire, if you're still cold," she told Arya. All they saw was the brown of her hair as she shook her head, and she replied that she was okay. 

" _Or_ we could just lay on your bed and call it a night, and lay with the fire we have," Robb retorted, threading his fingers through a short lock of his hair. "Arry can be warmed up with our body heat, but it's getting late Lyn; we need to go to bed. All of us. We must be with the others when we greet the King in the morn."

"That's tomorrow?" Arya asked in excitement. "So I get to meet the Imp and Jaime Lannister?"

"Yes," Robb and Lynara said simultaneously, smiling at each other. Lynara continued while Robb stayed quiet for a spell. "You will meet them. But be nice to them, okay? Don't call Lord Tyrion 'the Imp' either, Arya; that's rude."

"Of course. I'm not stupid," Arya quipped, letting herself out of her fur ball and allowing her sister to hug her close.

_The King, His Grace Robert Baratheon,_ Lynara thought curiously. _I wonder what he is like…?_ She imagined him to be a tall and long-haired slender man with the looks of a prince and the strength of three good men. _Powerful and commanding, maybe?_

Arya was in the centre when they finally climbed into the bed. Lynara was on her right and Robb on her left, both facing her. Lynara held her little sister close, unravelling the braids on one side and playing with the crimped locks that remained. 

"Why _my_ bed?" She mock huffed. 

"Because it's yours," Robb laughed, reaching over to rustle her hair. "Goodnight, Lyn, Arry."

"G'night, Robb," they replied. It didn't take a while for any of them to drift off to sleep. 

They were cramped, but Lynara didn't mind, even with the direwolves nearly crushing their feet. That night, she had sweet dreams - a stark contrast to her usual dwellings in the solemn crypts with the stony Kings of Winter and their iron swords.


	8. Catelyn & Lynara: Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who knew that a song could lead to a woman making a drastic decision?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think this is a proper way for me to apologise for not updating for some time. I'm not the best person when it comes to updating frequently. 
> 
> And before anyone asks, yes, I know this isn't how Catelyn would naturally act. This entire series is meant to deviate from the norm, especially given that Jon is a female. Please keep this in mind, and thank you. :)

She only played Northern songs, until a commoner politely asked her to play another. _One for the Southron lass,_ a lord insisted, motioning to Catelyn with a grin on his comely face. Her music was always beautiful; the way she played on the harp was skilful, graceful, like she poured her heart into every note. It was the only thing Lynara could do that was ladylike; she preferred bows and swords and riding horses like a Northman rather than sipping small cups of wine at the table.

"This is the only Southron song I know," she muttered under her breath as if no one would listen. She rested her lissome fingers on the strings, then she began to play, closing her eyes while the pads of her digits expertly found the strings.

The lords that came to visit listened intently as they gulped down their wine and ale, and the Great Hall was unnaturally silent. It was a Southron song, one that reminded Catelyn of home. It reminded her of being in Riverrun amongst the trees alongside Lysa, of being pulled in their castle by Edmure, of receiving sweets by her father Hoster. She missed those days and she longed for them terribly. 

She nearly broke down until she realised where she was. Blinking her tears away, she politely excused herself, telling her husband that she was not feeling well. Before she left, though, she reversed her path and was met with Lynara's unearthly eyes. Lynara knew, from her soft, worried glance. _She knew._ Her playing had become slower, softer, and Catelyn felt eyes on her until she left the room. 

 

It wasn't long after the song ended that footsteps were approaching her. She faced the sound and found Lynara standing there in silence, her gaze shifting elsewhere when she noticed Catelyn's stare.

"A kerchief for you, my Lady?" She jumped and saw Lynara standing next to her, sympathy brimming in her eyes. She held out a white triangular cloth for Catelyn to use, and graciously Catelyn took it, dotting the fabric against her damp cheeks. Lynara suggested she keep it just in case, which she surprisingly agreed to. "Did I offend you with the song?" 

"No, Lyn, you did not." Catelyn knew that Lynara was perhaps astonished by her use of the nickname. She was used to be called _bastard_ , or just _girl_ , or any insult that she could come up with, Catelyn was sure. Suddenly she thought of her children and how they acted towards her. _How…_ "How do you do it?"

"How do I do what, my Lady?" Lynara replied with confusion.

"How can you be so strong? How can you muster the strength to not be there for the children when I cannot be?" _How can you be so much stronger than me?_

"I'm not strong, my Lady Stark…but I love my siblings. I would do anything for them." She stared down at her hands, playing with them, a gentle smile playing upon her lips. "They gave me the best memories. Arya walked for me, she lets me be her knight when we play games, she smiles every time she sees me, gives me winter roses sometimes, too…Father allows me to play with swords and rustles my hair on occasion. Robb trains with me in the armoury and we call out the names of our heroes…Bran always wants me to show him how to properly use a bow and arrow and Rickon loves being around me. There is nothing else in life that I could possibly ask for." Lynara played with her thumbs. "Their love means I truly have something to live for, my Lady."

The thought was heavy on her mind, knowing of all the kindness the children had showed her, compared to her endless taunts and petty japes and constantly calling her nothing. _What had she done? When she prayed to the gods to save her when she suffered from the pox, why didn't she keep her promise to treat her the same as she would her trueborn children?_

"…I am sorry," she whispered, and Lynara studied her with shock. She met her eyes, her Tully-blue hues on the verge of tears once more. "Gods, I'm so sorry…"

"For what?" She inquired. 

"For treating you the way I did," she replied airily. "You deserve more than this. You deserve more than everything that’s happened to you."

"It's hard. That I do understand, my Lady." With Catelyn's permission, Lynara encased her arms around her, her hand gentle in the deep red of her hair. She disliked being coddled, especially since she was now an adult, but this felt…like it was necessary. While Catelyn would never cry on the bastard's shoulder, she enjoyed the brief comfort that she provided. "It's hard to try to be a mother to someone who is the product of betrayal and dishonour. I never expected you to be one for me…but I cannot say that it doesn't hurt."

_I must change._ The silence hung in the air, but neither seemed to mind until Lynara cleared her throat. 

"Are you alright now, my Lady?" She asked faintly. 

"I appreciate the kerchief, Lynara," she whispered. "I am sure your father is wondering where you are off to. Go to him."

Lynara departed, although hesitantly. The girl decided not to push any further, leaving Catelyn in silence, allowing her to gather her thoughts alone. She then scanned the sky, watching blues swirl with greys, pinks, and purples. It was a truly beautiful scene especially for a place as solemn and as grey as the North. Staring at the heavens, she thought long and hard about the conversation she had with Lynara had just moments ago. 

_I must change._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
